


Angel of Music

by kylosleftfoot



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Phantom of the Opera Fusion, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, Kylo Ren Redemption, Kylo Ren in Love, Kylo is the Phantom, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Nooses, Phantom of the Opera - Freeform, Protective Kylo Ren, Reader is Christine, Rose Tico Deserved Better, Scars, That's Not How The Force Works, Touch-Starved, phantom of the opera rewrite, tagging it for HUX SPECIFICALLY, tagging that as a TW for next chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:51:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26920180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kylosleftfoot/pseuds/kylosleftfoot
Summary: They say the Angel of Music of the Opera House has a mysterious teacher. Her voice is enchanting, almost etheral.Acting in place of the previous primadonna, who stormed out over... contractual disagreements... you work the stage and breathe new life into its performances.However, people are curious about who this mysterious 'teacher' could be. And truth be told, so were you. With this thought coupled by the threats of a mysterious 'Phantom of the Opera', this performance season was bound to be thrilling.Would you keep your position as a lead performer? Would you discover the mysterious man who had been haunting your dreams? Would a rediscovery of childhood love throw another spanner into the works?And most importantly, who was The Phantom of the Opera?// Yes I'm rewriting POTO except it's Kylo x Reader. I love to watch the world burn!
Relationships: Armitage Hux & Reader, Armitage Hux/You, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You, Maz Kanata & Reader, Rose Tico & Reader
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1- Hannibal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely love the Phantom of the Opera. I’ve watched it once live and many many times recorded! There’s a youtube channel called ‘The Show Must Go On’ that does broadcasts of musicals for people to watch during the Pandemic, and they’ve shown POTO twice now (good for me, since I love it).  
> I’ve been thinking… ruminating on this… and I mean, really, is it such a MonsterFuckery thing for me to do if I turned POTO into a Kylo x Reader fic? Well, since I don’t care about the judgement of others since I’m literally anonymous, I’m doing it!  
> Things in the plot will definitely be chopped and changed, since I find the phantom in the original play to be slightly too creepish for me to simp over, you know? The setting will mostly be the same, characters will be swapped out (I’ll indicate in the notes who is who for anyone who’s curious), but it’ll mostly be things after Act 1 that’ll change.  
> Anyway, I’ve been rambling and haven’t even started actually writing yet! I should probably get to that.

Oil lamps flicker against walls, casting pews in an ethereal glow. Their warm hues trickle and make the stage mahogany glisten and gleam. Its dark wood has seen many performances: years of joy, tears, adrenaline, all through the graceful motions of the Opera House.

Today was no different. A sole figure steps forth onto this mahogany. They seem to contemplate the air around them, considering. 

They take a deep breath.

“ This trophy from our saviours, from the

enslaving force of Rome!”

Then, as the lanterns flicker and glow brighter, they burst into song.

Startlingly colourful verses pour out of their mouth, filling the opera house with life. 

The oil lamps flash, and the stage lights up in glorious technicolour.

Voices accompany her, speaking of feasts, dances, celebrations. The rehearsal was in full swing- dancers filled the stage, looped and circled the primadonna, let their coppers mingle with her golden voice.

The primadonna stretches her arm to the curtains, and a figure marches his way through. 

_ Hear the drums - Hannibal comes!  _ The chorus shouts.

Hannibal stretches his arms to the air, clasps that of the primadonnas, and announces his line.

“Sad to return to find the land we love

threatened once more by Roma's far-reaching

Grasp!-”

“Sir Dameron, I do apologise for interrupting you whilst performing- but we say  _ Rome _ here, not  _ Roma. _ ” 

Poe Dameron tilts his head and shoots a scathing look toward Toro Calican, the Assistant Rehearsal-Supervisor of the opera house.

“Yes.  _ Rome,  _ not  _ Roma _ . The way I’m naturally inclined to say it.” Poe snaps his head toward the invisible crowd and is resolute in his  _ Fine. _

He begins again.

“Sad to return to find the land we love… threatened once more by  _ Rome’s _ ” Poe snapped his eyes towards Toro, who gulped. “Far-reaching gra-” Poe is again interrupted, this time by Holdo, the Manager of the house.

“Ladies and gentlemen, some of you may already,

perhaps, have met Mr Calrissian and Mr Tarkin…”

Poe slams his foot onto the mahogany and shouts his frustrations to the sky. “Blast you, incompetent people! Will I ever get my rehearsals done?! Do you want me to perform or not!”

“I'm sorry, we are rehearsing. If you don’t mind waiting until we are done!” Trilla  Suduri , the primadonna, glares over at the trio.

Poe groans into his red-green costumed cape and steps away from Trilla. “It’s no use. Let the damn woman speak or we’ll be here all day.” His distaste of Holdo was quite apparent- their personalities blended like oils on water.

Holdo cleared her throat and looked toward the ensemble of Ballerinas, Chorus Voices and the two leads currently fuming at her from their points on stage.

“As you may all be aware, there have been many rumours of my ‘imminent retirement’. I’d like you  _ all  _ to know that these rumours are correct!” Her gaze flashed to Poe, daring him to pipe up. Perhaps luckily for him, he relented.

“It is my utmost pleasure to introduce the two men that will now be running this opera house to you all: Sir Tarkin and Sir Calrissian.” 

The entourage applauds politely. It’s nothing they didn’t expect- Holdo had spoken quite often recently of a retirement. ‘Somewhere out of the way, perhaps Switzerland?’ were her more direct words of thought.

Trilla steps forward, the tapping of her stage shoes altering Holdo to her, who smiles and reaches arms out to her.

“Gentlemen, this is Trilla, our primadonna for 7 seasons running. She’s gorgeous, isn’t she? Her voice is our crown jewel.” Trilla smiles and reaches a manicured hand out to the men, which Lando takes and kisses politely. 

“Lando Calrissian. I’ve seen all your greatest acts. You’re splendid.” He winks up at Trilla, who chuckles proudly. 

“Madame, even as just a favour to a devoted fan, would you care to serenade us with a piece from this show of yours? Hannibal?”

“If my manager commands.” She whips her hand away, running it along her green-silk scarf. “Of course, if Mr Dameron objects…”

Poe snorts. “No. I don’t care for the rehearsal any more- to do any more would be breaking my flow as an actor.” Trilla smirks. “Maestro!”

Maz Kanata, the dance teacher for the house, had been watching nearby. She took this as a sign to Snap her cane against the floor and direct one of the entourage to the piano, so the Primadonna could have accompaniment.

A skittering Ballerina shuffled her way toward the grand piano. She made her presence near-invisible, unwilling to have the whole stage stare at her. This was for the primadonna.

As gentle fingers began biting into the piece, Trilla began her introduction.

Trilla began singing “Think of Me”, by a hint from the timid piano player. A Touching piece from Hannibal, of course, but not as grandiose and decorative as she would have wanted. She resigned herself and supposed it was due to the skill being limited on the ballerina’s end.

Her voice rose and swelled as she began immersing herself in the music. However, just as she began to tiptoe through the crescendo of the song the stage wallpaper crashed to the floor. Screams erupted, and everyone frantically ran separate directions.

“It’s the phantom of the opera!” cried ballerinas and dancers alike. “He’s here!” 

Moff Tarkin swivelled and turned towards Maz and Holdo, both looking startled. “What on earth is going on here?!” 

“Don’t worry yourself,” Holdo reassured as the dancers continued to wail in fear. “These things do happen. It was probably the stagehand  _ forgetting himself _ again.”

Primadonna Trilla stormed towards Holdo. Her eyes relayed just how furious and exhausted at the situation she was. “These things… do happen…” She slowly slipped the decorative scarf from her arms before slamming it into the ground and stomping on it with a loud thud.

“These things do happen!? These things have been happening… for the past two years! And you expect me to be satisfied with  _ these things do happen?! _ ” She hissed out the words, and the entourage began to cautiously focus on the unfolding scene in front of them.

“You need to get this…  _ “happening” _ fixed! And until it  _ is  _ fixed, this… thing… will not happen!” She screamed, storming from the stage. Poe Dameron stares forward at the spot where Trilla previously stood. 

“Amateur.”

Holdo, sweaty-palmed, stuttered out a response. “Well I see you all have everything sorted, I shall leave you to it! If you need me, walk to Switzerland!” she frantically grabs her furs and flees the scene, leaving a baffled crew behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp! Chapter one done! I actually wrote a bit more than this but felt this was a better place to end. I also wrote out the auction scene because it sucks.  
> Please let me know if you're confused by anything!  
> For all of my POTO freaks out there, here are the characters presented so far:  
> CARLOTTA is Trilla Suduri (The Second Sister)  
> PIANGI is Poe Dameron  
> REYER is Toro Calican  
> LEFEVRE is Holdo  
> ANDRE and FIRMIN are Lando and Tarkin  
> Ms GIRY is Maz.  
> If you didn't take in context clues, you're the girl on the piano.
> 
> Also, pretty-please kudos if you like this. I genuinely have no idea whether the stuff I create is worth reading or not. Ciao!


	2. Chapter 2- The Hiring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew discuss the fate of the Primadonna role, and one ballerina is unceremoniously thrust into the limelight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided that my new favourite coping mechanism for ridiculous amounts of college-work-related-stress is just to write into the void. I have three assignments due for Monday that I physically can't do because my printer doesn't exist! Yippee for professors that don't care about the wellbeing of their students!
> 
> Also, LMK if I make some sort of horrible syntax or grammar error. OTL

The crew looks to Armitage and Tarkin for answers.

“Primadonna will be back..” Armitage attempted to reassure. Maz snatched her cane and stormed toward them, shorter than him but significantly more menacing. 

“Don’t think to belittle the decisions of the chief performer of this house so easily. She is resolute in her decision since you useless managers do nothing about it!” She turned on her heel and rubbed her temples before staring back. 

“It is what it is. In more important news, I have a message from the opera ghost.” The ballerinas shifted nervously as this was said, a great uneasiness in the air.

Maz held the anticipation of all in the room- including Armitage yet excluding Tarkin, who scoffed apathetically. 

“God in hell, you’re all obsessed. I’m starting to regret this business decision.” 

“If you will let me  _ proceed,  _ sir." Maz cleared her throat. "The Phantom of this opera house merely wishes to welcome you to it. He also requests you continue the tradition of Madame Holdo, who paid him his salary and ensured box five-” She points an aged finger up to a box near the right side of the stage “-remains empty. That is all.”

Armitage baulked. “Salary?”

“About twenty thousand pounds a month.” This garnered the attention of both managers, incredulous.

“Ridiculous! Is there anything else we need to worry about?” Tarkin gasped. Armitage chuckled nervously. “We also happen to have no Primadonna, Tarkin.”

Another issue that they would have to work out, it seemed. Maz leaned against her staff, exasperated with the men.

Tarkin took this opportunity to gaze out at the crew. “Was there an understudy for this role? Someone to play the part?” 

A ballerina, short and with silky black hair tied into a bun, appeared from the group. 

“My friend here, sir.” she motioned to her hand, which was holding up the flustered forearm of the ballerina who had played the accompaniment earlier. “She is no understudy... but she has been taking lessons. From a- a great tutor… she tells me.” 

Armitage squinted at the girl. “From who?”

The 'piano girl' squinted at the floor and rubbed her now-released hands together.

“I… I’m not really sure, Sir...”

“Oh, not more of this nonsense!” Tarkin threw his hands into the air and Armitage pulled yet another nervous and icy chuckle out of himself. 

“Let the girl at least try! I have a feeling that this ‘Tutor’ has taught her well” Maz replied from her leaned stance against her staff. She mentally assessed the ballerina, and the girl gulped at Maz’s all-seeing stare.

They had no other choice, really. And so the pair figured that they might as well let you sing.

“Play- ah-  _ sing _ Think Of Me for us. You seem to know it well.”

“Right here, s-sir?” Her hands continued to wring themselves in knots as she fumbled through her phrases. “I’m not s-”

“No dilly-dallying nonsense! Sing it!” Tarkin barked, agitated and not wanting to waste any more time.

The girl flinched but forced herself to begin.

She started off softly, a very timid and embarrassed sort of tone to her voice. Yet as she began to trail through the song further, she picked up confidence- seeming to enter her own world as her voice entered new heights. At the crescendo of the song, she finally let her hands slip through and run through her hair as she hit the peak notes. The stage shone with the decorations of her voice- and just like that, it was over. 

She- the girl- was panting, trying to dislodge the last moments of adrenaline from her system. Lando gently walked over to her and clutched her fingers in his hands.

He stared at her approvingly. 

“What is your name, girl?”

She spoke it almost as a whisper. Lando repeated it, deep in thought. He dropped her hands, took two steps back, and clapped his palms together before staring at Tarkin.

“My good friend and most esteemed business partner, I believe we have just found our new Primadonna!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POTO Freaks, here I am again!  
> MEG is Rose (because I would die for them both!)
> 
> I really feel like this is a short one. It might not be as snappy as my other chapter and/or future chapter(s) but it does its job. Reader-oriented content will probably most likely be coming up in the next chapter! It'll be longer than this one and who knows- maybe I'll even include another titular, wide, attractive, black-haired, heartthrob, devastatingly handsome character in the mix.  
> Ciao for now!


	3. Chapter 3- Angel of Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You ponder over the sequence of events that led you to where you are now, and a familiar face makes an appearance at your stage door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Completely unrelated to the fic but my mouth is just not having a good time right now. Thanks to the pandemic (kisses and hugs), I've been needing a filling for about... 9 months now? And haven't gotten one. So, in short, I'll probably need some sort of crown or something at this point because I can literally feel my tooth SCREAMING whenever I do so much as breathe. Yay for me!
> 
> Also, this chapter didn't really go how I expected but, then again, I'm just word-barfing 90% of the time (not to say I don't have the majority of this story mapped out, but it's the little things).
> 
> ALSO I HAVE A TWITTER NOW ( @kylosleftfoot ) follow for me aggressively talking about Adam Driver

Your hands tremble with adrenaline as you open the door to your suite. You collapse on your vanity-mirrors stool and sigh as you let your hair run loose down your back, taking out gold and emerald ribbons which had adorned your characters outfit.

Looking up, your eyes caught the light as you stared at your reflection.

It truly had been surreal- to go from a lowly side-performer to the main act all due to this Phantom person. Removing your costumes outer layers and replacing them with a white chiffon robe, you chuckled at the thought. 

The Phantoms activity had by no means lessened. Tarkin, not a particularly spiritual person, had dismissed it as  _ old creaky stage poles falling all over the place _ , which the stage-hand had begun to deny responsibility for more intensely.

Your dreams seemed to be getting more vivid as the days went by, too. 

At first… these dreams… they seemed a result of your own thoughts running away with you. Your aspirations manifesting as you slept.

You dreamt first of a dark shadow, looming whilst you danced in your proxy-world. At first, it did nothing. It just stood there, seeming to watch you. 

One day, the shadow began to resemble something more human. Blurred palms lifted and lowered as you sang, seeming to direct your voice and cut out the inaccuracies. The shadow never spoke to you as it worked, though you swore to rose (your dearest friend, who had gotten you this placement) that you would hear mumblings just before you slept.

Small samples of voice, deep and rumbling, as you lay in the purgatory between consciousness. It seemed to call out to you. You’d hear snippets of your name and something more which you couldn’t quite decipher.

These mumblings began to happen whilst the shadow bent your voice in your dreams, too- coos, almost, of encouragement.  _ My Angel Of Music _ \- you thought you’d heard one day. 

The shadow had only gotten more vivid as you became primadonna. You began to feel comforted in its presence, feeling that someone (or something) truly heard  _ you.  _ In the purest way possible.

“My dearest dream ghost..” You began to softly mumble, weaving your hands together under your chin as you spoke. “I truly wish I could thank you for this. All of this.” You smiled at nothing in particular, remembering the feeling of comfort washing over you whenever you sung to the shadow. 

“I truly do not know whether you are real, or whether or not you can hear me. I-” Frowning, you let one hand cup your cheek as you tilted your head. “I simply… wish I could see you more clearly. You saved me from uncertain paths.” You sat there in silence, simply letting the feeling of the moment slip by you. As you did, a warmth seemed to spread through your shoulders, as if someone was holding them. It did wonders to lull you into a near-doze.

Wait.

Your eyes snapped open and you were about to turn your head around in shock when a loud rapping knock sounded through your room. All at once, you stood to attention and the feeling of being held disappeared.

How odd, you thought, as you fixed your robe in front of you and gazed out to your empty room. How very odd

The door once again was knocked on and you scurried, flustered, to open it.

As you did, you were met with a sight that made you grin, wide and clear.

“Armitage!”

Armitage Hux, your childhood friend and companion, stood outside your suite-door, a bouquet of flowers in hand and an astonished smile on his face.

“It really is you- y/n. Look how you’ve grown! Not as tall as me still, but there’s still time.” Armitage jested as he handed you the flowers. Balsamine and orange Lilies, which created such a wonderful perfume when you bent your head down to smell them.

You looked back up, bashful.

“I didn’t think you’d remember me, or even care for me. It’s been so long…”

“I could never forget a voice like yours, Little Lottie.” Hux grinned, before leaning his weight on your doorframe.

“When I heard you sing, from my box, I was astounded. I could recognise your singing anywhere- and I happen to be staying in the city for now on business. It- well- It seemed like the perfect time to talk to you again.”

You were flattered. You were- well, more than flattered perhaps. Peeking through your lashes further at Armitage, you truly took in his features. He had certainly grown taller- much taller- and his face was now matured and stylishly handsome for a man of this season. His suit was tailored and his cuffs, which you caught gleaming in the light of an oil lamp, displayed the First Order insignia. His newest and proudest business endeavour.

“Truly, Armitage. I’m glad to see you again.” You smiled and heard a commotion coming from further down the hall.

Hux turned his head to the side for a moment, registering the noise, before turning back to you and grinning. He reached down and clasped your free hand in his before kissing your fingers.

“I have to go- the company awaits. But I shall write to you, or perhaps visit tomorrow. Yes- tomorrow. I shall be here on the dot.” You were pleasantly surprised by his eagerness to see you again, and sufficiently flustered.

“Of course. I will eagerly await your company, Armitage. Now go- prowl the streets with your men!” You spoke jovially, happy to have already made plans.

Hux let go of your hand and walked down the hall, not before flashing you a cursory once-over and smirking. “That I will, Little Lottie. I shall see you tomorrow!”

You waved and shut your door once more, glad for the silence. So much to think of! Letting out an excited squee, you collapsed onto your bed in a heap of fabric and nerves. By tomorrow, you’d see Hux again- perhaps you could show him around the opera house, or he could take you to a tea room. Perhaps you were thinking too…  _ courtishly  _ about the situation. Whatever it was, you were happy to be reunited with a friend.  _ And _ to have an excuse to get some fresh air.

Trying to think further of the day, you found that you were struck with a strange sense of fatigue. Your eyelids began to weigh upon you where you lay, and you weren’t exactly fighting the tiredness. You felt so exhausted after your day of performances and rediscovery of friends and general excitement over your evolving situation- that must be it. It’s just tiredness catching up, that’s all.

The fingers of your right hand fell over the edge of your bed and brushed against silken suit-fabric as you fell into a deep, unnatural slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to JeBait anyone that wanted Kylo content! Technically you got it... that and the ending is, let's say, kind of implying something.
> 
> ALSO general update on the roles  
> ANDRE is now Lando  
> RAOUL is now Hux (it works better for the story I'm trying to tell. Nothing changed much in the chapters but they're probably worth a reread if you were here when it was Hux as Andre)
> 
> My tooth still hurts like a bitch so I'm going to watch some Disney+ and cry in a corner somewhere. Leave kudos if you enjoyed, ciao!


	4. Chapter 4- Guide and Guardian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! This is possibly the longest chapter I've ever done in... well... *anything*, coming in at whopping almost-2k words. That might not seem like a lot to many people, but I'm seriously not a writer. This is also definitely the farthest I've ever gotten through a fanfiction- let's hope this one doesn't get cancelled (a self-aware stab at myself there.)
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this one. The age rating for this fic will definitely increase as I write along as well as tags being added to so be wary of that! Overall, it was fun to write a certain someone doing certain somethings. It was also fun just to experiment at points, I guess.
> 
> In general me-news, I fell asleep during a lecture today! Not my proudest moment but that was a damn good nap. I feel like I somehow absorbed more in those two hours simply by going near-comatose at the end.

The gentle sound of a piano on a rainy day. The smell of herbs and spices. A gentle embrace. Butterfly kisses along your cheekbones. Grass and earth beneath your feet.

The gentle sound of… a piano being played.

You came-to slowly, drowsy and soft. You shivered and clutched the sheet wrapped around you closer for warmth. Squinting open an eye lazily, you saw blurs of candelabras and dark, gothic furnishings.

You shivered once more, and the piano washed over you. You didn’t register it at that moment, the thought laying at the back of your mind whilst you gently lifted yourself on the chaise longue you lay in and stared at the sheet (which was really what seemed to be a long cloak) wrapped around your form.

You were still wearing your chiffon robe, and your hair seemed relatively undisturbed, but you were most definitely not where you fell asleep. Rubbing your eyes and stretching, you tried to recall the events of what had happened before falling unconscious. 

You remembered… flowers. And passion, it seemed. Someone came to visit you, or so you thought- your sleep-addled mind wasn’t letting you recall the finer details of what had unfolded.

Flowers… A streak of red hair.

_ “I could recognise your singing anywhere-” _

_ Singing. Music. Where was that piano playing coming from? _

You shifted so you sat fully upright, wrapping the dark cloak around you. You followed the sound of the piano until your eyes landed on a tall, dark figure- a man, perhaps?- sitting at a grandiose and deeply-ornamented grand piano, haunting yet elegant music flowing from his fingertips as he played.

Something about this man just seemed so…  _ familiar _ to you. As if you had met before. His back was facing you, and his dark hair almost silhouetted him. Like a shadow.

You tentatively stood, wobbly on your feet at first but quietly pressing your arms into the chaise longue until you felt steady. Time seemed to flow bizarrely as you sat and watched this strange man play. The music seemed bewitching to you- nothing you’d ever heard before. Perhaps it was of his own arrangement? Either way, the notes wrapped themselves around each other and seemed to softly droop through the air. Your feet seemed to carry you automatically as you padded towards the source of the music. It was simply natural; you needed to find out more about this figure.

You reached the man, his expansive back completely turned to you as he engrossed himself in his music. His hands drifted across the keys almost as if by instinct, this being a song long taught and a song often played. Fingers reached over, ever so tentatively dropping to brush against his shoulder and-

The music chaotically ended. A hand shot out from the piano and gripped your wrist in a bone-crushing grip and you let out a strangled cry as the man twisted it before slamming your body onto the ground.

You felt your wrist bend unnaturally, still in his hold. You were panting now- pain, the  _ pain- and oh god who is this man why am i- here- _

_ am I going to die? _

The man had straddled you, pinning both of your wrists to the ground with his silken locks tickling the right side of your face as he panted into your shoulder.

“Who the fuck-”

His head rose slightly. You caught the sliver of an almond eye gazing at you before it snapped open in recognition and you were once again pushed harshly against the floor as the man scrambled away, letting out a shocked stuttery-gasp of his own. A giant paw of a hand covered his face as his legs kicked him further toward the piano, and you used your good arm to tearfully stare up at this… 

“I- Why are you-” A low voice rumbled in his throat as you drew your legs towards yourself and cradled your wrist. “You’re not supposed to be awake.”

“...Where am I? Who are you?” You had so many questions as you half-lay-half-sat on the polished floor. For some reason, you found that you couldn’t draw up true fear for the man in front of you. He hadn’t killed you, rather acted out of fear of an intruder. “Did you bring me here?”

His hand lowered slightly, revealing an eye. “Yes,” he mumbled. “I felt I… needed to see you.”

Head cocked to the side in confusion, you wrapped the cloak further around yourself.

“Is this yours?”

“Yes, but you were cold.”

“Are you not?”

“I have more on than a thin robe.” You blushed at the reminder and looked down at yourself. You were indeed rather… exposed. Some of your cleavage showed through your chemise under the cloak, and you became flustered at the thought of this man somehow seeing.

“Why are you not afraid of me?” Your head went back to resting normally, yet your brows drew in, confused.

“Pardon?”

He regarded you and stood. His height meant that even from his distance you felt towered over. 

“Why are you not afraid of me? You’ve awoken in an unfamiliar environment and had to stare upon  _ me- _ ”

“Should I worry? Or… be afraid, as you put it?”

A beat. Then, “No.”

“Why not?” you countered.

“Because you already know who I am.” As the stranger spoke, he leaned over the top of his grand piano and retrieved a helmet. It hissed as it secured itself onto his figure and you suddenly felt a wave of Deja Vu at his appearance.

“You…” From his wide, foreboding silhouette to his tall raven-haired appearance and even down to the way his hands would almost play with the air when he was doing something such as playing the piano or  _ teaching you how to sing- _

“You’re the ghost?” you blanched. “From my dreams?”

“Yes. I felt I needed to see you, for the first time.” His voice came out modulated due to the mechanisms of the mask, and it seemed like a door had shut that you would not yet be able to open. Not yet.

Blinking, you considered your next question. None of this made  _ any sense _ .

“How?”

The shadow- your teacher, rather, looked down at you as he spoke.

“The force. It’s integral to all living creatures. You won’t understand it, but I shall explain another time, perhaps.” Your eyes were wide open, taking the information in. “It’s how I got you here in the first place.”

You attempted to stand, but pressed too much weight on your swollen wrist as you tried hoisting up. Letting out a startled groan, you collapsed onto the floor in defeat- but not before the shadow stormed towards you and hovered his hands over where your injured wrist rested.

“I shall bandage you up before anything. Your wrist…” you thought of holding his hands in yours to reassure him yet reconsidered after remembering how your wrist had shattered in the first place. Instead, you gave him a reassuring yet tired smile.

“It was inevitable- I startled you. As long as you aren’t here to hurt me intentionally…”

“Never.” And with that, your shadow initiated the first contact, handling you like porcelain as he deposited you back on the chaise longue before excusing himself to get medical supplies- not before mumbling a short “Call me Kylo.”

And you sat there, diligently waiting, pondering, looping back over the situation. It was insane to you how relaxed you were. Was this the shock acting as a protective glaze over the situation? You felt as if you were dreaming. All this time… your tutor… he  _ had  _ been real. Instructing you from afar through your dreams, yes, but real. When you had heard soft mumblings of  _ ‘Angel of Music’ _ , that was  _ him _ . 

You presumed that was why you were so calm. You were familiar with this man, and if he had wanted to kill you he could have done it by now. There were plenty of weapons ornating the walls of this strangely vast space, and if only one of his hands could have shattered your wrist so easily there was no telling what his true strength was.

When Kylo came back, still masked, he aligned your wrist before applying various ointments to the area and setting it with a splint. “Do not move this wrist often for now. You need the splint to stay in place.” Truth be told, you weren’t absorbing any of his words. Just staring into his strange chrome mask and thinking of the man underneath. Once he was done wrapping your wrist with gauze, an unexpectedly light pressure, his head suddenly snapped up and he growled under his breath. The air in your lungs caught as he caressed a thumb over an uninjured area of skin and fumed. He left your side to pace up and down, eventually clenching his fists by his side.

“They’re looking for you.” He gritted through his teeth.

“How long have I been gone?” You replied, confused.

“Not long, but it seems as though a black-haired ballerina reported you missing after you didn’t turn up to some sort of meeting with her. Now everyone’s scurrying to try to find you,” he growled louder and slammed his hand onto a nearby table in what seemed to you like frustration.

“Rose.” you breathed, thinking of how worried your dear friend must feel. “Surely you-... I mean I… Are the others truly worried for me?”

“Yes and no,” Kylo replied from where he stood. “I can sense the girl is. I’m unsure of the others. Yet I some sort of... Redhead at the scene. he seems concerned for you.”

“Hux!” grinning happily at the thought of your newly-reunited friend caring enough about you to actively  _ search _ for you was an interesting thought and set butterflies off in your stomach.

The air around kylo seemed to waver. “You know him?” he asked, tentatively, though you were too engrossed in your own train of thought to notice.

“Yes. We know each other. He’s quite dear to me.”

You saw Kylos hands flex over the table and he stood with his helmet facing the side for a minute or two until suddenly his posture straightened and he walked back over to you.

“You must go home now. I am sure you miss your… friends.”

“Yes, I suppose I do.” You sighed as you stared up at Kylos chrome mask, wishing to extend the seconds you were united with him even for a small while longer.

“Will you still visit me? In my dreams?” You asked as you began to lay down again, Kylo coming to rest at your feet and watch you drift.

“Of course.” you weren’t able to decipher his tone entirely accurately through his mask, but you sensed an undertone of sadness within his voice. “I would not leave you so hastily. There is so much more to teach.”

A hazy grin took over your features at you stared at the man. “Shall I ever see you again like this, Kylo?” the name made you smile even wider. You finally had a name for your shadow.

“One can hope.” you closed your eyes, drifting off. Soon you would be back at the opera house. It would feel as though you never left to everyone else, but to you, this meant so much more. You finally found your teacher. Your musical counterpart.

You put the blame on a wild imagination the next morning when you swore you could still feel the lingering touch of a gentle kiss on your forehead, and you most certainly blamed adrenaline when the thought made your heart beat wildly in your chest and your entire face light up in a serenely happy blush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it! A nice, neat, tied-up-with-a-ribbon sort of chapter. Of course, expect more Kylo interaction but also be prepared for some minor Hux/Reader, since he *is* taking up the helm of Raoul even if he isn't the main love interest.
> 
> As always, let me know how I did (only if you want)! It doesn't have to be through words, sometimes a kudos is all I need to know I'm heading on the right track. I'm hoping to complete the next chapter and publish it by tomorrow (or today, really, since it is midnight.) but apologies if I don't manage to do that. I've got assignments coming up and chapters- the study kind, not the fun kind- to go over... you know how it is.
> 
> Anyway, ciao! Have a lovely Tuesday everyone! Follow @kylosleftfoot on twitter for more me-stuff


	5. Chapter 5- Yellow Parchment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Opera House has grown uneasy with the news of your prolonged absence. The rumor mill turns to Rose Tico, your closest companion, to ask of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I really enjoyed writing this one. I've had such a pleasant day today, it's really odd since by now I would usually be tearing my hair out (metaphorically and sometimes literally) due to stress.
> 
> What are your opinions on Rose Tico? Personally, I love her. She was such a bright addition to an already great film (The Last Jedi) and I feel like they really could have used her more in episode 9 instead of reverting to nostalgia and pandering to... certain demographics. Oh well! That's why the freedom to create fanfiction exists, I guess. I can do with her whatever I please.  
> I'm sorely tempted to write some sort of ReyRose or FinnRose work one day. Also, for transparency's sake, I'd like to let you all know that I don't mind what you ship in Star Wars as long as I don't have to witness any Snoke on Palpatine action, thank you very much.
> 
> Anyway, I'm rambling again. Make sure to follow me on @Kylosleftfoot if you want to see star wars things I retweet. Have fun reading!

The air of the Operas backstage shimmers with mischief. The ballerinas, stretching and practising their choreography for the next show, seem to be on edge still. The mysterious primadonna has still not been found, and news has travelled fast of the panic of the managers.

One dancer- a girl with blonde hair tied and covered with a fringe- inches towards Rose as they sway to the beat of Maz Kanata's instructions.

“Any news on y/n?” She whispers as she pirouettes by. Roses face scrunches as she replies with a troubled “no…”

Truth be told, she was just as worried as the managers themselves. You and rose had practically moved through the Opera House together- and were the closest either of you had to living family.

“Oh, I  _ do _ hope she is okay. It would be a shame for us to miss this year's performance seaso-”

Maz’s cane smacks against the ground.

“No speaking during rehearsals- there is much to learn from our last performance. Such clumsy footing! Such elephants pace!”

The girls look down and focus on their choreography, flustered and ashamed.

As they dance, a clacking of feet above them turns Maz’s head. Toro Calican stood, staring down at the dancers as they performed.

“Rose.” Rose once again became distracted from her practice, and in looking up bumped into a few ballerinas who grimaced at her as they continued.

“They say she was taken by the Phantom…” He smirked. “The deadly ghost of the House. I have my doubts that she will return.”

“Don’t say such things!” Rose raised her voice in offence and stopped in her path to glare up at Toro. “It has only been one night. She could simply be out!”

Maz smacked her cane against the ground once more. “Tico! Please get back to your assigned place.” Rose, however, wasn’t listening. How  _ dare _ this man talk of your safety in such a casual tone?

The commotion had distracted a few more ballerinas in its wake, causing them to flick their eyes between Rose and Toro in an attempt to read the situation.

Toro glanced away for a moment, before looking back down and staring directly into Ticos eyes.

“You must be always on your guard… who knows when the Phantom could possibly strike?!-” He lifted his arm and swung a curtain rope against his neck as though a noose, before feigning a choke.

Several ballerinas shrieked in fear and roses glare turned even fiercer. “You’ve never been funny and you _ never will be _ , Toro Calican!”

Maz stood, watching the whole event with an alarmed expression across her features. She then tilted her head upwards to the man who was now laughing at the terrified expressions on the girls' faces.

“Those who speak only of what they think they know find too late that silence was the wiser route, young boy.”

Toro simply snickered at her as he threw the now neckless noose away from himself. 

“You’ve grown to enjoy illusions in your old age, Maz Kanata.”

“Hold your tongue, Toro Calican. He will  _ burn _ you with one glance from his eyes.”

Rose looked down at Maz, confused. But she was steadfastly looking at the man above, her expression unreadable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well well well... A cliffhanger. (is it a cliffhanger?)  
> I'll probably get back to my regular writing schedule now, sorry for the two or so days that I was off! Mid-week is my most intense for coursework and to be honest It's a pain to sort it all out. At least now everything is wrapping up for autumn I can actually organise myself more.  
> I'll see you in the next one- which, yes, will follow what *canonically* happens next in the Phantom of The Opera (much to my joy, I love that scene.) Ciao!


	6. Chapter 7- Sopranos Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A great commotion surrounds the managers and staff as they begin to uncover strange letters sent to each of them- all finished with the same set of initials:
> 
> P.T.O.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! I'm hardly finished with this story, I know, but I have a feeling my next work (once I finish this one) will be based on the story of Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans (by F. W. Murnau) because I watched it today and holy mother of god does it have hurt/comfort/fluff/whump potential.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this one! I had to split it in half so there's more on the way- be aware the next chapter will most likely be 18+.

"Mystified.. baffled critics say…  _ foul play suspected?! _ ” Tarkin lowers his newspaper with an indignant shout. “How dare they accuse our present company of trying to tarnish our business venture! This is ridiculous!”

Lando paced across the office from Tarkin, a troubled look marring his face.

“First Trilla, now y/n…” His brow furrowed and he twirled around toward his business partner. “You do have to admit, it sounds suspicious. Foul play interrupting the performances of two separate primadonnas all in one season.”

Tarkin, sitting at his desk, let out a long and exasperated sigh. He picked up the paper once more and scanned it. “At least, I suppose,” he lowly mumbled. “The seats are getting filled due to the gossip around it all.”

“But we have no primadonna!”

“It’s ironic, is it not? Half your cast disappears, but the crowd still cheers for it! To hell with the operas and to hell with the free press. I’m going back to regional sales!”

Lando walks over to his desk and ruffles through his mail as Tarkin vents his frustrations. He had to agree with the man that this was  _ far _ more than what they were expecting to deal with. This situation was already getting out of hand, it was a great shame.

As he ruffled, Lando suddenly spotted two black letters, marked with red ink. One for Tarkin, one for himself. How odd.

“Wilhuff, your mail got mixed in mine,” Lando mumbles, holding the letter out to Tarkin who curiously takes it.

“A black envelope- very unconventional,” Tarkin says as he slices open the seal. “And hand-written!”

Lando peers over and begins reading the letter out loud, much to the mixed annoyance and convenience of his fellow.

“Dear Manager Tarkin of the Opera House,

just a brief reminder:

my salary has not been paid.

Send it care of the ghost,

P.T.O…!”

“Who would have the bravery to send this kind of thing?” Lando quizzed as Tarkin's face grew red-hot in anger.

“It’s that damn Phantom of the Opera House of course! P.T.O... how offensively entitled! This opera ghost is testing my wills” Tarkin barked out in indignation. “Does he know who he’s talking to?!”

“It's not amusing… more unsettling than anything” Lando chuckled as he picked up the letter with his left hand. “He's a funny sort of spectre… sounds like he enjoys winding our cogs.”

“He's abusing our position by invoking fear! I refuse to listen to this fiend.”

“He  _ is clearly  _ quite insane.”

A sudden slam of their office door against the wall interrupts the men and they whip their heads around just in time to see Armitage Hux storm into the room, shadowy.

“Where is she?!”

“Trilla?”

“I mean the fucking primadonna you’ve been hiring currently! Where is she?!” Hux barked, and a nervous bead of sweat rolled down Lando's temple as he was faced with a scalding look from the redhead.

“Well, how should we know? We’re still  _ looking _ for her.”

Hux slammed his foot against the floor and huffed into his hands, which were busy clawing his face in irritation. “I take it you sent me this letter?”

“What letter?”

“Of course not!”

“Don’t look at us when we don’t know any more than you do!”

Hux hesitated where he stood, then answered in a cold voice:

“She's not with you, then? Whoring herself out in the streets instead I presume.”

The managers shared a shocked glance.

“We’re still in the dark. We don't know where she was.” Tarkin spoke lowly.

“What is it we’re meant to have wrote?” Lando questioned, attempting to break the ice. “to have  _ written _ .”

Armitage hands the pair the letter, who read it out.

“Do not fear for your  _ Little Lottie, _

_ She is safe with her Angel of Music. _

_ Do not attempt to contact her again _

_ I know of your ways, Armitage Hux. _

_ P.T.O” _

The managers stand, mystified and concerned.

Tarkin cleared his throat and stared on at Hux worriedly. “We didn’t… write this.”

Armitage furrowed his brows before another figure burst in through the office door- this time Trilla, decorated with furs and fashions of the time and gloomily followed by Poe Dameron.

“Where is he?!”

“Welcome back, my lady!” Lando picked up her hand to kiss it but she quickly snatched it out of his grip as if offended.

“Silence. Where is he?”

“What are you talking about?” Hux walked toward Trilla, who glared at him icily.

“I have  _ your letter, Armitage Hux. A letter  _ which I rather resent, mind you!”

Tarkin looked back to Hux.

“Did you send it?”

“What?” Hux laughed, baffled. “Of course not! I have no care for this _ woman!” _

Trilla looked on, confused. She held up the envelope, the same black and red motifs decorated all of them.

“You mean to tell me you didn’t send this letter?” everyone seemed confused now apart from Hux, who just seemed explicitly offended.

He snatches the letter from Trilla, who turns her back to him angrily as he reads.

“Trilla. Failed Primadonna,

your days at the Opera Populaire are numbered.”

Hux hesitates at your name.

“...will be singing on your behalf tonight.

Be prepared for a great misfortune should you attempt to replace my Angel of Music- ”

"Let me guess, PTO?" Lando quizzed, leaning on a table.

"Yes!"

Tarkin hisses air through his teeth in exasperation and stands before pacing within the available space he has.

“All we’ve heard since this  _ wretched _ letter endeavour started is this girls name and this fiends initials!”

“Not quite.” 

The entire group turns to the door, where Maz stands next to a heaving Rose, clawing against the door for support and staring through it at them.

“She has returned.”

A loud commotion clattered through the air- all ' _ Where was she?!'  _ and ' _ Is she okay?' (the latter was more emphasised by Lando and Poe, both sharing a look of frustration when the only answer they were given by Maz was 'she is tired and needs rest'). _

Hux, ever cunning, took this opportunity to inch out of their room and march towards yours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to kudos if you liked it! I seriously don't know if people actually enjoy this (lol) but if you do, thanks for enjoying something I'm writing. It genuinely means a lot. :)  
> What could Hux be doing? Where is he going? Dun Dun Dun...make sure you're at the gate when I post the next chapter so you can be the first one to see reader/Hux's developing situationship fresh out of the oven!
> 
> Anyway, enough of that^. I liked writing this one. Having all the characters start to mingle is really satisfying, to be honest. I only wish I had enough writing energy to not constantly split chapters. Have fun going through the rest of kylo/reader and ciao!


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